The dominant and fundamental presence of conservatism amongst the English people throughout its modern history has meant that the ultimate symbol of English identity- the British royal family- has always rested to a considerable degree on the laurels of public support, even despite episodes of scrutiny, controversy and tragedy. The royals are tied intrinsically to patriotism, national identity, and arguably, one’s ‘normality’: what do you mean, you don’t care for the royal family? Don’t you care for your country? Don’t you realise how much they do for this country? These sentiments ring more and more divisive in the present day, however, with the growing generational realisation that the royals are appearing more and more as antiquated relics of an empirical and outdated past, and a sense of confusion arises as to what they really do for us, marking a step away from mere blind tradition. Increasingly, therefore, the question becomes where do they fit into modern society?
The chief argument as peddled by those conservatively aligned seems to be a message of royal financial relevance and, in fact, advancement: that they bring in revenue through their draw as a tourist attraction, and that this is a cornerstone of their contemporary importance. Where this becomes a point of debate, however, is in the fundamental nature of this type of tourism. Without a royal family, the rich history of the various palaces and grand homes in which they have resided remains, minus the eye-watering sum of their residence and upkeep. In the midst of a Britain left in tatters by thirteen years of Tory austerity and a cost of living crisis catalysed by the economic devastation of the Covid-19 pandemic, the scale of the sum lifted heavily from British taxpayers’ money becomes somewhat distasteful: by the report of former LibDem politician Norman Baker, in interview with Al Jazeera, ‘it costs, even according to the palace’s own figures, twice as much as any other monarchy in Europe’, with the estimated annual cost of the Crown being approximately £345 million (Republic), and the cost alone of King Charles III’s May 2023 coronation being a £72 million expense to the taxpayer. In a country whose tabloid and media culture revolves so heavily around denigrating those who ‘scrounge off of the state’ and lay burden on the everyday taxpayer through benefit fraudulence and other classist claims, why do the conservative majority have no issue with significantly higher use of their tax on the dilapidated and static iconography of the monarchy?
The monarchy now poses an unusual juxtaposition between modernity and antiquity that gives it a feeling of ill-placement in its modern day: an ancient relic dragged into the current time with an air of tiredness and uncertainty as to where it fits. Increasingly as society modernises itself, the Crown has become evermore subject to popular culture impact, with its image rising and falling alongside this, rather than its public image being solely dominated by the old-fashioned patriotic notion of ‘King and country’. Perhaps the peak of the Crown’s popular culture position of interest was the period of the ‘80s to the late ‘90s, though even this was heavily founded upon the public’s desire for scandal and sensationalization. The marriage of Charles, Prince of Wales, and the young Diana Spencer in 1981 gave the monarchy a breath of fresh air, the event itself amassing 750 million viewers worldwide; even in this, the fact the monarchy’s revival of mass popularity was rooted in the youth, beauty and newness that Diana’s role in the Crown now symbolised. As the decade progressed, however, interest in the couple devolved into speculation and sensation as rumours of infidelity, arguments and absence between the pair swirled in the press, ultimately resulting in their 1992 separation and 1996 divorce- an unheard of move for a royal couple. This unconventionality, again, gave the monarchy an edge of modernity that, when combined with the public’s love of scandal, made it arguably more popular through popular interest. A lot of the credit for the monarchy’s renewed popularity can interestingly be attributed to Diana herself: both the support and the criticism she received as a figure in the public eye was for her atypicality in regards to her royal role. Her humanity and heart defined her popular image- moments such as her heartwarming hug with an AIDS patient in 1991, which helped to lessen the vast contemporary stigma around the illness, or her work in Bosnia- and set her apart from what the royal family as a symbol do not possess: heart, humanity and liveliness. Diana’s 1997 death arguably marked the death of the royal family as the pop culture sensation it seemed to enjoy being at that time, and the death of the family’s key beacon of vivacity. Though arguably there was a ‘passing of the torch’, to a degree, when Prince Harry married Meghan Markle, former Suits star, in 2018 (and Meghan’s press reception reflecting the tabloid gossip that too followed Diana), their abdication from the senior royal roles marked a demise in any liberalist hopes of monarchical modernity, and the Crown was left even more of a hollow shell of a past long gone.
To many, the Crown continues to become more and more of a stagnant artifact laying dormant at the crux of the English social hierarchy; today’s children do not revere or aspire to monarchy as the children of sixty years ago may have done, and in this, the embers of its social relevance begin to spark and die. Unless we begin to see tangible evidence of what the monarchy ‘gives back’ to its subjects, it becomes ever more a bizarre and ancient English tradition that sets it apart from its European counterparts. And in this modern political climate, how can that ever be a blessing?